| In the eyes of the eagle
The entire week, my cramped office has been transformed into a mini-newsroom for the first ever Jemez Pueblo Journalism Camp. My plan was to bring news writing to the Rez, teach the five W's and H (who, what, why, where, when and how), and talk about a career and an industry the students knew little about. For help, I called on a college classmate, who is Native, and she linked me with another Native professional journalist. The three of us had six days to teach the basics and give an overview of Native and contemporary media before sending students out into the community with their notebooks. From the name of the paper to the topics of their stories, the students decided on the content. It was their paper. We wanted their voices to resonate throughout. They called it The Eagle Eye. They wanted to write about the proud tradition of distance runners who've come from Jemez Pueblo, the importance of family, farming and nutrition. The stories ran. They also wanted to chronicle the tougher issues such as alcoholism, diabetes and domestic violence. The stories ran. The publication was eight pages and included a photo essay, an opinion page and a creative corner. The work culminated with high-fives and smiles that only a roomful of adolescents could provide. Reflecting on our work, I am more proud of that one edition of The Eagle Eye than any publication I've ever been a part of. In newspapers, the thrill comes the next morning when an article turns out fair and error-free. Like the sprinter who knows the race results instantly, the published article is a journalist's proof of finality--for a day at least. Working in education is more of a marathon than any other race. Today, my influence comes out in a one-on-one meeting with a student, in talking about a research project or in helping with an essay or application. Instead of late nights covering city-planning meetings, I spend evenings explaining the nuances of financial aid and college loan programs in living rooms. There is glory in this journey. It happens when students go away for college visits and write me e-mails about how big the world is. It happens when two of my most hard working students get admitted to Dartmouth and UC Berkeley--and they're the closest of friends. It happens on graduation day or when report cards come home. "You can't really get much further from San Francisco than Jemez Pueblo, New Mexico," people would tell me when I first arrived in the Southwest. "From one extreme to the other," another friend said. Yet almost one year into this experiment in career and life, I see similarities, not differences. Going to work no longer means writing about everyday life; Instead it means being a small chapter in someone's life and perhaps helping to influence their future. I've learned that life doesn't come to a halt for anyone, anywhere. While lifestyles may vary with geography and culture, every day life doesn't change all that much. The events, triumphs, tragedies and the mundane--they're all around us, waiting to be discovered, absorbed and chronicled. That can happen as long as the eyes of the journalist, no matter where they might be, never stop seeing. Even when dreams take a detour. React > Redemption and the reservation In the eyes of the eagle |